


Five times kissed

by Kitexa



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied miscarriage, M/M, Mpreg, cherik babies, domestic AU, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitexa/pseuds/Kitexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five little moments Charles and Erik exchanged kisses.<br/>Everyone gets to do this meme at least once; this one goes out to my best friend.<br/>Drabbles were based on a series of role plays, but they're easy to follow, I swear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first time

**The first time it happens,** they’re standing on the balcony. The satellite, some hundreds of feet away, has just been turned through access of a new control; both are shaking, glee and heartbreak reverberating through their minds.

Charles knows there’s more to Erik than even he believes. Something damaged, but good, no less. He’s seen it, time and again through use of his powers, and more recently, through interaction.

“That was a beautiful memory.” Charles croaks, thumbing away a tear. Erik turns to him, rubbing his own eyes. He’s uncannily vulnerable; expected, but... startling, still, to witness in person. 

“I didn’t know I still had that.” He rasps, and oh... Charles’ heart crumbles once more. His hands twitch at his side, tempted to touch his arm, cheek, but such behavior isn’t proper between two men who aren’t family. 

“There’s so much more to you” he says instead, stepping as close to the other as he dares. “Not just pain, and anger...” no, certainly not. There’s a warmth to him, a kindness. A light so very seldom burned... it hurts Charles, but it excites him, too. “There’s good, too,” he confesses, and though his tone remains restrained, that longing,  _love_ , shines behind his eyes. “I felt it.”

A blush bleeds through on the last word, and tears threaten to fall once more.  _I care for you,_  hangs silently in the air. _I care for you, I need you, I never want to be without you._

He keeps it to himself, of course; growing up as Erik did, what would he say to such a revelation? What would he do?

Charles cannot bear the thought, and so he pushes it aside, prepared to further verbal encouragement.

Until abruptly, Erik changes course.

“...do you love me, Charles?” It’s not the phrase that does him in, not entirely. It’s the pending desperation, the huskiness in his voice. That touch of vulnerability fighting with his usual guard. He doesn’t sound accusing. Doesn’t look it, either. But Charles’ stomach suddenly freezes, and he severs any telepathic link.

“I...no.” He shakes his head, kicking himself but it’s for the best, it is. If his upbringing has taught him anything, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Better to stay in friendship’s company, than risk desire and lose everything.

He turns to leave, but something snags his arm.  _It’s Erik,_ he knows before he looks back.

“Charles...” tries the metal-manipulator again, as though Charles’ power, too, were his own. 

The telepath himself bites his lip, but his eyes remain on their arms.

“Erik, please..”

“Please what?” Interrupts the other man, sharper than before. “Do you love me, or not?” 

There are a million answers he could say:   
_‘No, I don’t, why would I, that’s ridiculous.’_  
_‘Why are you asking, haven’t we a world to save?’_  
The more frightening  _‘Do you love me, then?’_  
And of course confessing openly, which, as noted previously, falls in ill favor.  


_You could always freeze him, Charles._

Oh yes, freeze his mind and back out, like a bloody coward. That wouldn’t harm their relationship at all.   
(Sarcasm; it would, it undoubtedly would.)

Ultimately, Charles doesn’t know what to do, so he says nothing and hopes his silence will lead to defeat on Erik’s end.

But, as Erik so often does, he takes an unexpected action; his free hand finds Charles’ cheek, drawing their gaze together.

“Do you love me, Charles?” He asks again, soft.

“...yes.” Relents the telepath, unusually timid for the man previously ensuring confidence. He intends to further explanation, ask why it’s so important, if he’s damaged their friendship and why is Erik suddenly so much closer--?

“Mmf--!”

Shock electrifies him, Erik drawing them both in a deep and tender kiss.

 _‘It’s okay, Charles.’_ Ringsthrough the telepath’s mind. ‘ _I love you, too_.’ Apprehension leaves him like the storm it was when it arrived. He sinks into the kiss, a little smile on his face. This, he decides, is his point between rage and serenity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes without saying, but any lines borrowed from the film, I do not won.


	2. The second time

**The second time**  is on his birthday.

Life hasn’t been as kind, of late; all he wants to do is forget.

Erik has been good about that, although his anger threatens to disrupt them.

 _‘It’s okay, Erik,’ he’s_ tried to assure, ‘ _killing won’t do any good.’_

While they’ve agreed to disagree, today, all that is set aside. This is about Charles, and for the first time since his father died, it is genuinely about him.

“What do you want, Charles?” Erik asks gently, lacing their fingers together. “For your birthday, what can I give to you?”

It’s a touching question, and earns him a small smile.

“I don’t know..” he answers, halfway lost in thought. It’s a partial truth, and they both know it; but Erik can’t erase his memory, and Charles dare not try, on his own.

So what can Erik give him, if not mental reprieve?

He quiets, thinking, really thinking. It can’t be a material gift (it could, but they’ve only been together a few months; he fears his wealth intimidates the other man). Not that Charles cares excessively about expense.. but he does, occasionally, come off that way.

So he’s been told...                                  

Regardless, no, he doesn’t really want that sort of gift from Erik. What he wants.. what he really wants...

Teeth find his lower lip, exhaling through his nose.

What he really wants isn’t possible. Not in any legitimate sense.

Still... they aren’t technically legitimate, but here they are, holding hands on the porch, autumn breeze ruffling their hair.

Surely, then, what he wished was not so impossible?

“...I want...” Charles begins carefully, squeezing Erik’s fingers. “... I want you to marry me.” He looks up then, eyes bright, hopeful as they are embarrassed.

Erik’s eyes grow a bit wide, but the incredulity Charles expected never surfaces. Instead, his gray eyes level, as though studying the other, carefully.

When he does smile, it’s softer, more sincere.

“You know it won’t be legitimate.” 

Charles nods. “I know.” But it’s the thought that counts, the love, and Charles loves Erik very much.

“Alright then.” Erik steps away from Charles, but never lets him go. “Charles Xavier...” he begins, kneeling now before him. “Will you marry me?”

Charles’ heart jumps into his throat. “Yes-- yes, Erik, I will. I do.” A wide grin blossoms, throwing his arms around the man as Erik stands, once more.

The metalbender laughs, pulling Charles in, tight. “You do, do you? Then I guess we’re bound til death.”

Charles himself laughs a little, pushing himself up by his toes. "I love you,” he muses fondly, then closes in for a kiss.

They stay that way for some time, alight in their affection, and the presence of each other.


	3. The third time

**The third time,** they’re in bed together, cuddled close after a long day.

Mutation is a funny thing, and often unexpected. For so long, Charles believed himself only a telepath. Recently, this had proved untrue.

A soft sound drops from his mouth, sliding a hand up and over Erik’s, both resting atop Charles’ swollen belly.

“Alright?” Erik asks from behind, nose nestled in his’ hair. The pregnant man smiles, fitting his fingers in between his would-be husband’s. He wasn’t, at first. Neither of them were; unaware and unprepared for parenthood. 

Charles feared he hadn’t fallen far enough from the tree.

Erik feared a pregnancy might kill him.

But time enough had passed, it seemed, they’d come to embrace this change, learning as their baby grew, one tiny step at a time.

“Oh--” 

Charles laughs, blushing bright red as Erik's grip over his belly tightens. “You felt them too, eh?” 

The metal-manipulator raises his head, and though he couldn’t see, Charles imagined him smiling. “Mmhmm. They’re strong.”

“They are.” Agrees the smaller man, pride filling his chest. Strong, alive, and theirs... “Hey.” He says suddenly, trying to turn around. A sharp tug along his lower back stops him (the one lingering concern he holds; his hips aren’t meant for child-bearing). 

“Careful, Charles.” Erik cautions, holding him more securely.

“I know, I know.” He reassures, nestling back in against his lover. _‘I’d like to cuddle, properly. Baby bump be damned.’_

Silence from the other man. Then, a sudden absence, relocation, snuggling down face to face with Charles. It’s awkward, like he’d suspected it would be, but Erik is tall and lanky enough to mold himself, accordingly.

“Better?” He asks, returning a hand to Charles’ abdomen.

The smaller man beams, then pecks his lips in thanks. 


	4. The fourth time

**The fourth time**  is the day their daughter arrives.

Second daughter, more specifically. Third child in total. A bit soon, hardly a year after their last one was born, but Charles can be impulsive when driven by grief. Unable to handle an early loss, he’d broken a promise in hopes to fill that void.

Six months, it took nearly, to gain Erik’s favor.. even then, he wasn’t sure he’d been forgiven. 

But by the end, no lingering bitterness could keep his husband from voicing concern over Charles’ health; though this child was conceived much earlier, she hadn’t want to come out, and the toll on her father (mother’s) body had reached alarming levels.

 _“She needs to come out!”_  Insisted Erik, to such a point the bed-ridden telepath caved.

He’d delivered her that night (because a pregnant man could not simply enter a hospital.) A beautiful little girl, with Charles’ eyes and a dusting of dark hair.

“Olivia” They decided on. To Erik, she was ‘baby bird.’

“She’s beautiful.” Charles coos, cradling the child, close. He lifts his head, hair matted, eyes outlined with heavy bags, but undeniably happy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Answers his husband, bending to kiss Charles’ head. Relief hovers around him like a planet in orbit, and lingering fright chases this like the moon. Nonetheless, they’ve made it through, still together, still in love. 

Gaze falls back to his daughter, stifling a yawn. How he longs to preserve this moment; an echo of the past, renewed, parents and new baby at last acquainted. Alas, nine months filled with pain and old injuries agitated left Charles without sleep for much of his final trimester. He needs it, desperately... 

“Erik?” He asks, exhaustion weighing his voice. His husband is there in an instant.

“Yes, Charles?”

Xavier yawns again. “Would you mind if I slept for a bit?”

A warm pride engulfs Erik’s mind; he carefully gathers their child in his arms. Before he does, Charles steals a little kiss. Nine months of stress and agony; hopefully, they’d start anew from here on out.

 


	5. The last time

**The last time** , Charles feared he’d never see Erik, again. He’d left unexpectedly, without mention of where or why. They’d talked, briefly, about his return to mutant activism; Charles hadn’t been prepared for it, so soon.

He’d hardly slept, the first couple of nights. Ones following kept waking him, midway. Though Erik held a fearsome power, he was not indestructible. If something happened to him...

…they’d both grown up without proper parenting. Neither wished that on their children.

So Charles held his breath and carried on, scrambling to hold the reigns his husband usually helped with. The school year was over, medication in his system, he should - theoretically - have enough stability to maintain single parenthood. 

If he couldn’t, there were always friends. (He didn’t want to rely on friends. They were his children, his responsibility and if Erik could be the stay-at-home dad, so could Charles, damn it.)

Still, when he finally returns, two weeks later, joy hits him like a tidal wave. 

Apology had hardly mattered, so soon is Charles in his arms. “You’re alive.” He murmurs, buried into Erik’s shoulder. His husband winces, nudging alarm once more. 

“Careful, little one.”

He could have protested, scolded him for leaving and how badly was he hurt? (Pain and Erik were a tricky subject; the man hated doctors, but some injuries required more than home care.) Charles decides to address that later, instead doing the selfish thing (he’s a selfish man, and adding insult to injury likely meant one of them would sleep on the couch. He didn’t want that. And he’s sure Erik doesn’t either.)

“I’m sorry.” Charles replies, balling fistfuls of his husband’s jacket. It’s worn and in need of a wash, but it’s enough leverage to pull the shorter man level, and enough to give a _‘_ welcome home’kiss.

_‘I missed you, Erik. Don’t leave like that, again.’_

 


End file.
